I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
by sunshine102897
Summary: After a routine hunt, Dean doesn't exactly wake up from a long night's rest like he is supposed to. Set Season 5.
1. Chapter 1

**So...this was just a little drabble that helped me to greatly avoid the homework I needed to do. I felt like writing instead. Oops.**

Dean Winchester was sitting up, leaning against the wooden motel room headboard-and then, he wasn't.

It was a typical night after a hunt (damn witches always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere), and he and Sam had crashed back at their motel. Home sweet, musty, cock-roach infested home. Sam had drifted off hours before, too exhausted to even think about joining Dean to watch the Star Wars marathon on TV.

It was about 2 am and Dean was just beginning to feel his eyes drift shut, too heavy to even watch his favorite Han Solo moments when within a blink, he wasn't staring at the TV screen anymore. He was staring at himself, _on the bed_ , leaned up against the headboard with his eyes propped open. Nothing like an out of body experience to wake a person right up.

"What the hell?" _If this is a dream...yeah it's a dream. Just a really weird one, right? Maybe a little too much hunting, not enough sleep. Now I just gotta wake up. God, I don't wanna have to go through that whole "if you're about to die in a dream" crap. One time of that with a stupid djinn is enough, thanks._

He looked over to see Sam turned over on his belly and sleeping away, sheets wrapped up around his neck and feet hanging off the end of the bed. _Uh, isn't a dream supposed to be, like, some kinda fantasy? Because unless there are some latex twins hidin' in the bathroom, I'm startin to think this is may be a bit too vivid._ He looked down at his body and stuck out his arms, seeing that everything was intact. _Why is it always me? I have had enough out-of-body for a frickin lifetime._ His one last hope of this being an actual dream was finally shattered when he went to pick up the remote.

"Dammit..." The possibilities of what the hell had happened went swimming through his head. _Did I die in my sleep? Did that last cheeseburger finally get the best of me? Nah.- Dean Winchester goes down swinging._

"So, Sammy, until you wake up, I guess I will just sit here and watch the rest of the movie. Right next to myself. Not awkward at all." He went and sat on the bed, directly next to his actual body. _Yeah...this is like on the top of my "most weird thing to happen to me" list. Yet again, why me?_ He took a minute to stare into the unseeing eyes of himself and realized after another minute, that his human self wasn't breathing. _Uh oh. That cannot be good. Holy crap this is not good._ Jumping up from the bed, he raced over to Sam, uselessly trying to do anything to get him awake. _Swayze, wherever you are, please grant me some of your ghosting abilities._

 _"_ Sam! Come on, man, you gotta wake up. Something's wrong and I'm over there wasting away as you lay here and get your beauty rest!" _Wow this is useless. I've got, what, 4 or 5 hours before he wakes up? Hell, I'm already kinda dead...maybe I can find out how to get undead?_

"Okay, Sam, what would you and that geek boy brain of yours do in this situation?" he wondered aloud. _Sam is going to completely flip out. Oh boy will I be in trouble._

"So you are always on this whole 'retrace your steps thing.' We found the witch and got her, Sammy, so that is outta the question. Maybe there's something in Dad's journal?" He went over to where his duffel lay beside the bed. Their dad had been dead for years, but hell if his journal hadn't saved their asses a couple times. _Okay, more than a couple, but Sammy doesn't have to know the information didn't come from my own brain._

"Swayze, don't let me down," he said, reaching down to his duffel and hoping- _praying_ -that his hand would touch something solid. Of course, his long run of luck certainly hadn't held out.

"The freaking world is coming to an end and I can't get one damn thing to work for me!" he shouted, kicking out his foot in anger, only to smack the side of the bed.

"Damn..." _Wait a second. I kicked something. I kicked something and it hurt! God how our lives are so messed up. I could really use Cas right now if he wasn't off on his 'I'm gonna go find God' crusade._

Dean closed his eyes and put everything he had into the will to pick up the book. Seconds stretched on into eternity, but finally he felt something hit his hand.

* * *

"Okay, my long run of luck has held out after all. Now I just hope something is in here...Any time you wanna wake up and help me out Sammy, feel free. _I'm only dying over here."_ With another eye roll, he opened his dad's journal and started searching for anything that would put him back into his body.

* * *

 **So...yeah. I don't exactly know what prompted me to write this, but I am gonna post the rest of it tomorrow. Reviews would be lovely. Thanks. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Four more hours passed and there was absolutely _nothing_ in the journal. Sure, it had helped them the first time around, but this was useless. _Of course it is._ His frustration level was reaching its max.

"Sammy would you please, for God's sake, wake the hell up!" As if on cue, his younger brother's foot moved beneath the sheet and a hand reached out to the phone sitting on the bedside table, turning off the alarm before it went off. The gigantic shape groaned and after a minute of hesitation, rolled itself out of bed and groggily walked to the bathroom. _Take your time Sammy. That's okay._

A few minutes later, Sam emerged from the bathroom, casting a glance at the TV that was still playing the Star Wars marathon. A small smile reached his lips as he remembered how many times Dean had hated on him for his lack of 'pop culture.' He walked over and grabbed a pillow off his bed and tossed it over at his brother.

"You are so going to regret sleeping like that, Dean." He waited for the familiar groan, but strangely, nothing came.

"Dean, come on. I know the world isn't ending today, but Bobby is expecting us." He reached down and flipped on the bedside lamp, then looked over at his still unmoving brother.

"You can't just lay there all day, dude." With still no answer, he walked over to the adjoining bed, the first inkling of fear seeping into his mind.

"Very funny, Dean. You can't pretend you are still asleep when your eyes are open." Another minute, and the fear had become even greater.

"Dean? Dean!" He was down at his brother's side in seconds, only now noticing that his eyes were open, but completely glazed and unseeing. His brother's body was ice cold and his chest wasn't moving.

"Oh my God! Dean! Come on you gotta wake up!" Sam was shaking him, desperately feeling for a pulse, but finding nothing.

 _"_ No. This isn't happening. I'm-I'm dreaming." As if trying to make it so, he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, only to be trapped in the glassy gaze of Dean.

"Dean! Please! Not like this! Don't you do this to me, dammit!" At this point, tears were stinging his eyes and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. The fact that his brother was laying there dead hadn't caught up with him and his whole body went numb.

"You can't do this to me again Dean. I won't let you." he rasped, knowing nothing but the pain that had ripped through his body.

Watching Sam discover him like that had been nothing short of excruciating.

"Sam! I'm right here, dammit! If you would walk over here for a second you would notice that Dad's journal magically floated itself over to the table. Come on!" He walked over to where Sam was sitting on the bed, looking all lost and broken, and waved his hand in front of his little brother's face.

Minutes passed and he had resigned himself to the fact that getting Sam's attention was out of the cards.

"At least call Bobby. Surely he would know how to fix this." Seconds later, out of complete surprise to Dean, Sam snapped himself out of the sort of trance he had fallen in to and got up and went outside. It wasn't completely light out yet, but the sky had begun to take on a fiery mix of oranges and reds. Dean followed him out, slightly confused at how he could walk outside, but didn't waste too much time on the subject. He watched his little brother wander his way to the middle of the parking lot and without much warning, he began shouting at the sky.

"Castiel! Castiel! You get your feathery ass down here, dammit! Dean needs you! Please!"

He repeated this until he was hoarse, both from straining his voice and the tears that were ever present. _I'm surprised he didn't wake the neighbors. Now Sam, go call Bobby before you get the cops called. I don't think they would be too happy to find me in your motel room._


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel hadn't come, no matter how long and hard Sam had screamed out his name. Hell, he would take any angel that would come. There was no way he was gonna let Dean go that easy, but he had nothing left to do but call Bobby.

He shakily picked up his phone and hit the speed dial, careful not to look over to Dean who was still gazing forward with unseeing eyes. _God, how long was he like that? How long did I let my brother lay there dead?_ The thought tore him up inside. A few rings later, a gruff voice on the other end picked up.

"Sam?" Sam found his voice was caught in his throat and it was clear the older man could hear it.

"What's wrong, Sam?" he asked, tone urgent.

"It's...it's Dean, Bobby." He paused, unable to get out any more words.

"What happened?"

"He's gone Bobby. I-I found him like that. I couldn't...I couldn't do anything. I don't know what to do." By this time, tears were freely leaking down his face.

The older man paused on the other end, having no words to say. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I'll-" he cleared his throat, suddenly having gone rigid with grief- "I'll be right there, Sam." And with that, Bobby hung up the phone and wheeled his way out to his car, preparing for the longest ride of his life.

A stray tear worked its way down Dean's face as he had to sit there and watch his brother go through this misery. _I am really shortening their years with all of this crap._

"I may look dead to you, Sammy, but don't you think for a second I won't be back. It's still me and you against the world. We still have an apocalypse to stop. We just gotta figure out-" He stopped as he suddenly spotted something sticking out from underneath his duffel bag.

"Son of a bitch." He walked over and leaned down, slightly moving the duffel out of the way to reveal a small, leather bag with red markings on the outside.

"I'll be damned. Bitch got a hex bag on me before we ganked her, Sammy. And here I thought a dead witch meant no more witchy crap. Who knew. I am pretty sure witches top my list of most hated supernatural beings. Now will you please come to your senses and come burn this bag?" He waited a minute..

* * *

"Yeah, I thought so. I am the one who is gonna have to sit here and watch Bobby smack you upside the head for not seeing this little hex bag." _Poor kid. This is my fault all the way._


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later, a knock came on the motel door. Sam stiffly got up and opened it to reveal Bobby, sitting in his wheel chair with grief etched across his face. No words were exchanged between the two as Bobby rolled over to where Dean was laying on the bed, hours past having grown cold and stiff. The older man clasped a hand over his mouth as his eyes burned with fresh tears.

"I can't Bobby. He's...he's not gone. There's gotta be something. We just started being brothers again."

Dean walked over to stand next to Sam, his heart now torn to shreds.

"I'm sorry about this Sammy, but the sooner you find that hex bag, the sooner you can get me back. This is not one of those 'what's dead should stay dead' situations. I am very much alive," he whispered despite himself.

Bobby rolled away from the bed and back towards the door.

* * *

"Sam, let's go outside." _He's long gone. There ain't nothing more I can do for my boys,_ Bobby thought blearily, leading Sam out of the motel room door and closing it behind them.

 _Looks like I'm gonna have to take matters into my own hands._

 _"_ I just can't get good help around here anymore," he muttered to himself. He once again crouched beside the bed and used all he could to pick up the hex bag. _Nasty little piece of work. So much more trouble than they are worth._ He set it on the table and went looking for his lighter. _I am not so sure I can pull this one off..._

Dean reached into the pocket of the jacket that was hooked to the back of his chair and felt around for his zippo, pulling it out when he knew his ghost hands weren't going to drop it. A few deep breaths later and desperate prayers, he held the hex bag in his hand and starting flicking the little lighter nob.

"Please work..please work...please work..." Seconds of flipping stretched into minutes and minutes stretched into eternity. _I think I have been trying to get this to light for an hour at least_ he thought when suddenly, a little flame appeared. He nearly dropped the lighter with excitement, but lone behold, the hex bag caught on fire.

The effect was instantaneous. He felt like he was being pulled apart and shoved back together again but in a blink of an eye, he was back in his place on the bed and sucking in a lungful of air. He could feel his heart beating again and his skin was gradually regaining its color. _My god am I going to be stiff. I think the apocalypse can wait after this little bout of fun._ He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to rid the dryness, and sat up with a groan.

* * *

"Jesus I feel old." He swung his legs off of the bed and began to stand up, only to fall back again with the feeling of gelatin legs. _Okay Sam. Give me a minute._


	5. Chapter 5

Meanwhile, Bobby and Sam had been sitting just outside their motel room. Nobody really spoke for the first few minutes. Sam knew what Bobby had to say. He just didn't want to hear it.

"Bobby, the angels wouldn't let this happen. I know they wouldn't. They need Dean to be Michael's vessel."

"Sam, dontcha think that if they were gonna bring him back, they woulda done it by now?" Sam hated to admit it, but Bobby was right.

"Maybe they moved on from him, Sam. Hell, for all we know they coulda used your brother Adam as a vessel since Dean seemed so adamant in refusing them." Sam winced at his use of past tense.

"I just... Bobby I can't do this. I can't." His shoulders started to shake again and all Bobby could do was lay a hand on them.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I-" he was suddenly cut short from a bang coming from the motel room and the door being opened, to a shaken, but very _alive_ Dean Winchester tumbling out. Sam jumped up immediately and reached for his gun that was tucked into his waistband.

"Really Sammy? I thought you wanted me alive with the way you were moaning and groaning in there. Don't shoot me full of rock salt either. I am not a ghost." Sam stood there, his mouth dropped open, but that only lasted for a few seconds before he came barreling into Dean.

Bobby could hardly believe what he was seeing. The boys' embrace lasted another minute before Sam pulled back and put his brother at arms length.

"But Dean you were _dead... for hours._ No pulse, no breathing, no nothing. I thought... I thought I had lost you." He admitted.

"Well you didn't. I was there the whole time Sam... just not exactly in my body. I thought surely your psychic wonder stuff would've picked up on that or you would have at least Dad's journal laying open on the table."

"Sorry, Dean. I guess I didn't think about the journal when _my brother was lying dead in the bed right next to me,"_ he retorted.

Bobby finally spoke up. "Well I'm happy you're back and everything but can you explain to me exactly how you are standin here breathing?

"I didn't find it but a few minutes ago, but that witch we were hunting must have put a hex bag in my duffel. I thought once they were dead, their magic or whatever died with them. My awesome Swayze powers helped me to burn the thing and _bam_. I was back in my body."

"Thank God for that," Sam said gratefully.

"Sam, ya idgit. You coulda told me that you were hunting a witch. I coulda told you to find the hex bag and saved me the drive," Bobby said, but with little heat behind it.

"I guess I didn't think anything of it Bobby. Sorry."

"So, guys, now that I'm back in the game again, do you think we could go grab something to eat? Being dead or whatever sure makes a guy hungry."

"Idgit," Bobby said with a smile and the three of them headed to the Impala, glad that they were all alive and safe for the moment.

"I'll tell ya one thing though, I don't think I'm ever going to try and sleep in again." This earned Dean a slap to the back of the head by his younger, but taller brother.

"Ow!" Dean said. "Don't be a bitch Sam."

"Only if you stop being a jerk, then maybe I will reconsider." That let loose a chuckle from Dean.

"Ah, it's good to be back Sammy, just like old times. You and me against the world. Well, and ole iron sides over there too." That definitely earned him another smack.

 **So, that's the end of things. Thanks for anyone who read this. Reviews are graciously accepted and appreciated, especially considering the impending doom that is tomorrow night at 9. I don't know if I am excited for the finale or ready to go dig myself into a little pile of blankets and cry. Probably the latter. Au Revoir lovelies.**


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